Darker Side of The Moon - Contributed by Cynthia

Hi Ashraf,

Remember we were talking about altitude of an English romance on a moonlit nite. I agree the full moon is breathtaking to look at in the blackness of the nighttime sky, but this beautiful orb has a disturbing side. I did a silly bit of reasearch and was going through few medical journals about its darker side.

I invite you to come and take a journey with me, and let's explore,

THE DARKER SIDE OF THE MOON

Studies have shown that more assaults occur during the time of the full moon.
More crimes are committed.
Emergency rooms are filled to capacity, with people who have accidentally or intentionally poisoned themselves.
The belief that the full moon causes mental illness and strange behavior was widespread during the middle ages. That belief hasn't changed much since then.
Even today, many people still associate the full moon with,
...[Crazy People]...
My brother used to work at a mental hospital, which happens to be one of the most Haunted Places in Ohio, and the stories he used to tell me, about how the patients behaved during the
full moon, sent shivers down my spine!
He told me that all of the mental patients, were kept locked up on the very top floor of the hospital,
...[and during the full moon]...
the patients began screaming and wailing, as if they were being tormented, waving their arms wildly through the iron bars that covered the windows,
...[on this particular night]...
One of the patients became totally out of control, and tried to pluck his own eyeball from its' socket!
...[BAD MOON]...
Alex, was exhausted when he awoke on the floor of his bedroom. He was completely nude and covered in blood.

He doesn't recall what happened last night, then he suddenly remembers,
~ THERE WAS A FULL MOON ~
The myth about the werewolf has been with us since the dark ages. A man, who was bitten by a wolf, suddenly undergoes a terrifying transformation under the light of the full moon. The darkest evil inside him comes out in the form of a, ...Werewolf...
HERE ARE SOME MYTHS ABOUT THE FULL MOON.
The moon is made of green cheese. If a woman falls asleep, under the light of the full moon, she
will become pregnant. To get rid of warts, cut a potato in half. Rub it over the wart, then bury it in the light of the full moon. The wart will fall off in three days. Chickens lay more eggs during the full moon. Don't stare directly into the full moon, or you'll go blind. Don't wash your hair in the light of the full moon, or you'll go bald. The best time to fish is during the full moon. If a man goes for a swim, in the light of the full moon, he will become sterile.
More proposals are made by men during the full moon.
...Of Course...
These are only a few of the myths, that have given the full moon a bad name. Take a real good look at the full moon one night.
It is truly a wonder to behold!

Your’s Cynthia

Heartbreak

Funny thing about heartbreak, it doesn't hurt at all! Trust me on that…if you still can. Atleast not when you do it to someone else, nope! I didn't feel a thing. The power of making someone cry for you is godly.

So, I broke up with her. Alright so we loved 6 years blah blah, best thing that's ever happened to me blah blah... Don't care. Magic's gone. We're over got go and say final bye. And just like that, I broke her heart. I watched her tears fall and I thought… hmmmm… I am lovable.

And just like that, I was FREE. Free! Funny thing about freedom, you never know what it is until you give it away. So, I gave it away...I left the city and the state. And, on those cold lonesome nights in my first flat in this godforsaken city dipped in coconut oil...my mind drifted to her.

Nope, no heartbreak here! Bangalore is a land of opportunity.

I cuddled my pillow at night instead of her…in my dreams. My friends here were aquaintence, not a girlfriend. Not a lover. Not a companion. I'm so glad I ended it when I did. I'm not missing her at all.

Meanwhile, she waited. She waited weeks and months. She waited one full year, and then she gave up. Giving up was easy and quick for me hard and bitter for her I like to believe. Then she rebuilt what I had broken; she found that other dreams awaited her besides the ones we had made together. She found a life, and she no longer waited for her ever late in showing up boyfriend.

Back in the land of opportunity, I smelled her perfume on a passing girl. I heard her name from a friend. I felt her touch me as I sat alone on shopping mall stairs.

In the real world, she laughed and loved with her new boyfriend. She gave him all the things I could have had; he gave her all the things I denied.

Nightmares from this anew life did not haunt me, but dreams of her face did. I unlaced my shoes each night and I made my bed each morning. I found myself surviving from task to task, from mundane day-to-day activity to mind numbing city chores. And I thought of her.

So I called her. Hi, how ya been? She's been wonderful (got hit by a bullet train). She got a new boyfriend now, enjoying her new life. She’s doing this and doing that and oh by the way she did this too. I've been thinking about you.

She thought of you from time to time. It was good back then, but she gotta go, new Mr. Right is calling, goodbye. And just like that, she broke my heart.

Funny thing about heartbreak. It doesn't hurt at all. She didn't feel a thing. If you don’t trust me trust a trustworty girl!!!

I The Great

You think that’s weird listen to this… and the saga unfolds…

Some people have no concept of the definition of a conversation. I call these people "I The Great Talker" because no matter what you tell them they will consistently turn the conversation into one about themselves. You relay an experience you had that day and that triggers their bottomless pit of a memory bank and they regale you with story after story of much worse experiences that have happened to them. Don't even think of interrupting or trying to get a word in edgewise because it will do you no good. Oh no, they may politely wait for you to finish speaking but they are not listening to you - they are waiting to continue where they left off. "Now where was I? Oh yes...."

So twenty minutes later I come out of my daydream and realize they are only as far as 1981 year I was born… 5^th edition of their story and its 2008 many more editions to come.

Wishing I had bitten my tongue off for having spoken to this person in the first place or committing suicide before the day I met him, I go back to my dreamworld and as long as I make the occasional remark like "wow" and "oh my" they are content and oblivious to the fact that I have tuned them out. During this turbulent period you dare not utter words like “it can’t be true” or “how did that happen” those very words will give birth to few more editions.

As my mind wanders I begin having visions of gagging this person and much worse - sewing their lips together. This is usually the point I'm at when they finally Shut Up. Not because their story is over… not at all it’s a Indian soap opera they stopped cause it’s a lucky natures call or they got their mobile ringing. Learn some magic and vanish.

Now you might be thinking - "Why do I talk to this person in the first place?" - and I probably would agree with you - but as the old saying goes: YOU CAN'T CHOOSE YOUR RELATIVES! Or your countrymen to say…

Cynic Life

At times you fear yourself have you gone too far ahead or are you lacking far behind. Whats the road you are traveling my good man?

I'm interested in anything about revolt, disorder…chaos, especially activity that appears to have no meaning. It seems to me to be the road towards freedom. Talking about myself like Jim said “I don't remember being born, it must have happened during one of my black outs”. Black outs they are … farewell to sanity and routine

From not using an ashtray or eating directly from the container instead of plates to buring your voter I-card actions are promted by instinct. To be a person who shakes other people up and make them feel uncomfortable. Some may give it a name of emotional violence but its not violence as far as I see, anyway I don’t have anything against violence it isn’t always evil or unwanted. What's evil is the infatuation with it. Anyway it’s a wrong word here, there is not much physical work involved at least not a physical threat to anyone. We fear violence less than our own feelings. I feel personal, private, solitary pain is more terrifying than what anyone else can inflict. I am talking about this kind of war, a battle that is waging within us… were we stand at both the ends, war were from being always a loser we switch to being the winner… always

I don’t know why we are talking about this maybe because reecently in my life I have discovered not only a new dimension of hatred but also came up with a new way of expressing hatred. I feel hatred is a very underestimated emotion… one of the most unexplored and undefined.

The most loving parents and relatives commit murder with smiles on their faces. They force you to destroy the person we you really are: a subtle kind of murder. Hatred undefined… unsurpassed. Then there is hatred one has with himself. Punishing his needs, his desires… there are many faces of it. I had to work a lot, experiment a lot to be precise to over come such hatred and voilence. Miles have to be walked and explored before you taste a drop of “Virgin Freedom”. A freedom undefined. To be honest in my life I have not tastes more than few drops of those but it’s enough to drive me forever. I believe in a long, prolonged derangement of the senses to attain the unknown. Our pale reasoning hides the infinite from us.

The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are... what you saw in your weirdest dream. We trade in our reality for a role we are expected to play in this world. Giving up our ability to experiment, explore and feel in exchange, putting on a mask which maynot let you rest for the rest of your life. Where's your will to be weird? It got killed you killed it yourself.

Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free. I have to quit jobs and seek shelter in mountains till the money ran out to kill the fear of career goals. I have to forsake my mobile and change my phone number to kill the fear of losing relations. All around you people are trying to confirm their own existences. One needs to kill that very urge.

Some of the worst mistakes of my life have been in going back to places and people unchanged and being made to realize and repent how much I have changed. But then again you make peace with authority, to become your own authority.

I feel time to hesitate is through for me and this is the strangest life I've ever known. To end again on Jim Morisson lines “There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors.”

What you talked...is what I became

Standing strong, a titan
Strength to move worlds,
born to take responsibility, to excel
Shake the foundations of the world

But I walk slow, bent
afraid crows flying above
will choose me their target.
And they think I am a giant
We all say so, and it becomes truth.

Standing tall, a giant
Omni-conscious to be straight.. tall… chest out
Seeing all, towering over others head
Tall and stoic as a mountain
But I stand still, quiet
No footsteps rumbling the earth
And they think I am a fortress
We all think it so, and it becomes truth.

Standing solid, a fortress
Unmoving and strong,
Reliable about dead emotions and wise not to revive any
Holding no rooms for people
No men-at-arms, no archers
Builders and kings look at me from afar
And say I am a stone
We all feel it so, and becomes truth.

And so I am a stone,
Silent, unmoving
Worn by the ages, home to moss
Saturated from the age of observation
Solid standing on the foundations of my earth
Reliable to myself and no one,
standing tall, guiding all that ask me for wrong advises
And so I think I am a stone mountain
I tell them all, and it becomes truth.

First Smoke

I was 10 years old I guess, I was in class four and first time got infatuated seeing my grandmother smoking same night I saw Amitabh smoking in Deewar. That was it cigarette was the next thing to try. I was angry I remember, surrounded by stupid people in a small town. Panwalllahs who just wont give you smoke, friends who will lecture you for hours if you ask them to buy it for you. Step further they run back to tell it to dear mummy and soon there is a phone call being made to your mother.
Stupid arrogant people all around. My parents just didn't understand. It was my legacy I had to take it. My mouth...lung it was all waiting for that dense air. I was old enough to make my own decisions. I was going to try it now in a subtle form or later in a dreaded form. My small town folks and their smaller mentality stole my innocence and made me a thief stealing a cigarette from my fathers pack.
Before I could decipher smoke is not blown but taken in from a cigarette I was caught and dragged back home like a serial killer being presented to the law. I got multiple slaps from my mother before she felt her hand is hurting and then I was passed on to my elder brother who relished using me as a punching bag.
Outcast and rebuked I cried at my fate I was so near to grabbing my legacy...
I smoked my first cigarette with one of my cousin sisters and then it was hostel and ahead and smoke never stopped. I lived my legacy never did those evil thought ever crossed my mind to forsake it. I have bunked classes midway to go out and smoke. I have been registered as absconding from hospital beds in thy love of smoke.


Today I am flying back home for minor lung operation. Thrice it has collapsed and now the X-Ray shows infection on both the sides.I will be going to the same small old town where I was denied my legacy to make a promise of being a chain smoker once I am out of operation ward... if not absconding midway...